


Brainy is the New Sexy

by MrsMCrieff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dominant Sherlock, Dream Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Sex, Sherlolly - Freeform, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMCrieff/pseuds/MrsMCrieff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Molly were more intelligent than Sherlock had realised? A sexy tale prompted by lilsherlockian1975. Rated M for language and smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilsherlockian1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/gifts).



> So the prompt came from lilsherlockian1975 was - Brainy is the new Sexy. Sherlock discovers Molly is a Mensa member and more intelligent than he had realised. 
> 
> As always I own nothing.

Molly realised at a young age that it wasn't good for her to flaunt her intelligence too much. She learnt to build up a persona of being friendly and bright but not to be too intimidating. People didn't like it if she was too overtly intellectual; they called her precocious and not in a nice way, friends stopped hanging around with her and boyfriends felt inadequate and dumped her. It was easier to just pretend in order to get by and bit by bit it just became second nature to her.

The only time she didn't hide it was in her academic work. Over the years she had often received praise from her teachers and then lecturers but she didn't mention it to her peers, didn't flaunt it. In the area where she grew up there were no gifted and talented schemes, no one to push her and encourage her to take exams early so she plodded along with everyone else often wondering in her early years why they struggled so much with work that she found simple.

It was a little easier by the time she reached university. There at least she was with other bright kids and could let herself shine a little more even if she was still the brightest by far. She dated and even had a couple of serious boyfriends but it was still the one area where she had to keep her light under a bushel. Guys just didn't seem to like her being more intelligent than them. They seemed to find it emasculating and she would find their lack of intellect a bit suppressing after a while.

She'd thought it wouldn't matter when she fell in love, that once she was truly in love with a man; that she would accept him for being who he was, for being kind and gentle, or interesting but she was wrong. Just over a year with Tom and kind though he was his stupidity just started to irritate and overwhelm her. Regardless of her feelings for Sherlock, which since he'd returned were as strong as ever, the 'meat dagger' comment was the last straw and she broke up with him less than a week later. She needed someone who could challenge her on an intellectual level not just physically.

When she thought about it, which she did often, it was really no surprise that she fell for Sherlock so hard and so fast. He was the first man she had met who was significantly more intelligent than she was. It was a huge aphrodisiac. The fact that he also wasn't put off by her choice of career added to his appeal but no matter what she did she couldn't seem to get him to notice her....not really, not emotionally and physically. 

Yes, she knew he had fast realised that she was quick and competent and they were even friends now but he never really 'saw' her, never really looked beyond the surface she presented and if he did it wasn't to question how bright she was.

It was a few weeks after all the upheaval at New Year. Sherlock was back in Baker St following an enforced short stint in rehab. She was angry with him for yet another lapse but still grateful that he was here and alive and not out in god knows where getting himself killed. She'd heard his reasons and to an extent understood them. He had thought he was going on a suicide mission, that he was leaving his friends and family for the final time. Why not go out on a high? But his drug use terrified her; she knew the dangers, saw them at least once a week on her slab. The line between high and dead was too slim, too fraught with danger.

Never the less she still accepted him back into her lab and her life. He needed the stability of work and his friends more than ever. Rejection would only give an advantage to the drugs.

It was one such day when he was in the lab conducting some experiments. He was helping Lestrade with a case but he'd told her it was fairly minor, barely a five, and he didn't need her help. She had sat in the same room with him, rather than in her office, just enjoying the silent companionship. She'd almost finished her paperwork when an email came through on her laptop. 

It was a reminder that her Mensa membership was due to expire and asking her the renew. She clicked though to her membership seeing her test score on the screen; 173. It made her smile. It wasn't often that she thought about it or let herself be vain about it but sometimes it was nice to see, to be reminded that she wasn't the idiot that hanging around with Sherlock sometimes made her feel. 

She glanced over at him taking in the black shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing off those slim, muscular forearms. His hand was on the dial of the microscope making small changes as his lips moved. She knew he spoke to himself, reciting his results, committing them to his mind palace. It wasn't good to watch him for too long. It made her want to just go over and kiss him or touch him as she felt desire for him wash through her. Dammit, did he have to be so good looking and so unattainable. 

She wondered what his IQ was. It must be well over 200. Probably one of the highest in the world, him and his brother, though Mycroft had all the intelligence but none of the personality of his younger brother, at least not as far as she was concerned.

Just then one of her interns came into the room. 'Doctor Hooper, sorry but we need your help in the morgue. Johnson has found a hematoma in the body of Mrs Wilson and we're not sure if it's the cause of death or not.'

'I thought Dr Stamford was overseeing your work this afternoon?'

'Yes he was but he got called away about twenty minutes ago. It looked like s straightforward autopsy at that point but...'

Molly sighed and shook her head but followed him out of the room. She enjoyed the teaching side of her role but it was a little like having needy children at times.

Sherlock looked up as Molly left but didn't pay much attention. He had just about cracked this case but he needed to confirm that there were roadworks on Chapel Road; if that was the case it was the accountant who had done it. He looked around for his phone before remembering it was in his jacket in the morgue.

Normally he would have called for John to go and retrieve it but John was inconveniently tied up with Mary who had given birth the week before. 

He huffed in frustration not wanting to have to go downstairs. It was then that he spied Molly's laptop open on the workbench where she had been working. 

He stood up and swiftly made his way over, already thinking through password combinations in his head should it be locked. Fortunately it wasn't and he slid into Molly's seat noticing it was still warm from her presence there. He enjoyed her company in the lab, it had been his main reason for coming in today. The tests he'd been working in could easily have been done at home but Baker St was quiet without John and he found himself craving human contact. Molly had always been his 'go to person' when John was not around and so here he was.

He was about to open a new page when the one she was on caught his eye. It was Molly's Mensa page and he stared at the number before him. He had always known that Molly was more than competent, after all she was the only one he trusted to help him with tests and carry out autopsies on his cases but....well he hadn't realised just how bright. How had he not noticed that? 

He pushed it to the back of his mind for a moment whilst he googled a site showing local roadworks. He grinned as soon as he saw the confirmation that he was right about the case and quickly sent off an email to Lestrade. 

The only downside was that that left him without a case for the first time since he'd come back from his exile. He'd even worked through his rehab....anything to break up the tedious monotony of that useless place. It hadn't taken him long to work out that it had been Mycroft behind the video. It had been a strange feeling being grateful to him for once, not that either of them had made a big deal of it when they finally discussed it. Maybe though they were both getting more sentimental the older they got.

That brought him back to Molly and that eye-opening Mensa score. He made his way down to the morgue to pick up his jacket and coat and as he did he paused for a while watching from the side-lines as Molly expertly explained to the junior doctors the true cause of death of the old woman on the slab. He felt a little as though he were seeing her with a fresh pair of eyes; in a new light. She knew exactly what she was talking about; there was no hesitation no nervousness.

He put his hand up to say goodbye to her before he pushed his way out of the double doors and thoughtfully made his way up to the exit. He'd always assumed Molly was fairly average, yes she was brighter than most but that wasn't hard most people were mouth-breathing idiots in his opinion. But now he thought about it she was a doctor just as John was but she implicitly helped with all his lab tests whereas John didn't, couldn't really on the whole. He'd never questioned that.

He climbed into a waiting cab and barked out his address before looking out of the window onto a dreary, grey London. Another memory came to mind; him going to Molly for help calculating his and John's capacity for alcohol. He closed his eyes and took himself back to that afternoon. Had he seen her using a calculator? They'd done some quite complex calculations and had both done them in their heads. Now he thought about it he distinctly remembered her answering before him a couple of times. How had he not picked up on that?

A voice in his head said because you've never really noticed her, you always miss something.

As the cab pulled up outside 221 he glanced up at the windows as he paid the driver. He never came back to a warm and welcoming flat any more. Maybe you should invite Molly round one night. He shook his head wondering where that thought had come from.

He opened the front door and called out to Mrs Hudson but there was no response from her flat. It looked like she was out for the evening. At least she'd laid a fire before she'd left so once he lit it it didn't take long for the flat to warm up.

He changed into his dressing gown, made a coffee and then grabbed his laptop before half lying on his settee. He was still intrigued by Molly and had decided to search to see if she had written any peer review papers. He couldn't believe he had never checked before. 

Three hours later and he was still working his way through them. His estimation of Molly's skills and knowledge had risen exponentially over the course of the evening. He pushed himself off the couch and made a sandwich before flopping back down and eating it as he read the next paper Application of Solid Phase Microextraction Methods for Forensic Toxicological Analysis of Postmortum and Decomposed Samples. Sherlock thoroughly enjoyed her writing style, her arguments and the evidence she used to back it all up. He even recognised some of her examples as having come from autopsies of his cases. 

He finished the paper noting that it was past midnight, the fire was almost out and his need for sleep was starting to affect his mind. It didn't help that he'd been up the night before attending the crime scene with Lestrade. 

He made his way to bed with thoughts of Molly swirling around in his head. He thought through their past and more recent interactions. He felt he understood now why he had always intrinsically trusted her, he connected with her in a way he rarely did with others. She was more of an equal to him than almost anyone else even John. He recalled how guilty he had felt when she had found out about his drug use. No one else ever made him feel guilty like she did, not Mycroft, not John, not anyone. But Molly made him feel things he didn't always like to acknowledge he felt.

It was with those thoughts in mind that he drifted into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock soon fell into a restless sleep but his dreams were filled with broken, disparate images. Molly was there invading his mind and his body in a way she never had before.

_She was in the lab leaning over her work, then next to him, her hand on his shoulder the warmth of it heating his skin. He could smell her and it made his mouth water as he listened to her reciting his calculations back to him. Her voice was low and breathy forcing him to have to lean in to hear her and having to resist putting his lips on her skin._

_She was in the morgue with blood on her coat and face, a scalpel held between her fingers as she removed his heart with precision. It was only when he realised he was looking up at her that he understood his was the body being examined and dissected so methodically._

_He heard a whip crack and looked round. Now he was in the woman's front room and she was walking towards him cracking her whip wearing a white dress covered in blood, her lipstick an ugly smear across her face. It was only when she walked past him and he turned that he saw Molly naked, her hands tied above her head, hanging from a hook in the ceiling with her feet barely touching the ground. The woman walked around her trailing the whip around Molly's naked body and across her breasts._

_He looked at Molly and he knew he was hard. He pushed his hand against his erection for relief and the woman smiled, 'don't forget Sherlock, brainy is the new sexy.'_

_He was in his bed fucking Molly feeling her hands on his back as her nails scraped against his skin. He could hear her moans of desire growing louder as he drove himself into her delicious body. He wanted to hear her call his name, wanted her to know it was him giving her such pleasure. As she did he felt his own will break and his orgasm take over._

It was at that moment that he awoke with a groan feeling his cum streaming out and soaking into his pyjamas making them warm and sticky. He threw back the covers relishing the feel of cool air on his heated skin.

He washed one hand over his face as the memories of his dream stayed in his mind taunting him. 'God, no....NO. I will not...I do NOT have feelings for Molly Hooper.'

He sat up quickly swinging his legs over the side of the bed before making his way through to the bathroom to clean up.

It was no good though. He tried staying away from Barts, he tried distracting himself with cases, he even went to visit John, Mary and the baby but nothing seemed to remove Molly Hooper from his mind. She was the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last thing he thought of at night. She invaded his dreams, his mind palace, his every waking thought.

How had he let this happen? What was making it worse was not the fact that he was waking up either hard or sticky most nights it was the fact that now he was missing her company. He was craving just seeing her face.

In desperation he'd even tried to delete her from his memory but it was all to no avail. He needed help, he needed John.

'Hey, what's up? I can't stay too long as Mary has an appointment with the health visitor at 3.00 and I said I'd be there.' John made his way into the fact and sat across from Sherlock in his normal chair. He took in Sherlock's disheveled appearance and the state of the flat which was littered with coffee cups and books and papers.

He frowned leaning forward. 'What's up? Are you OK?'

'No, of course I'm not OK. Do you think I would have called you if I'd been OK? I am NOT OK.'

John raised his eyebrows at the outburst and sat back in the chair again, his hands on the armrests.

'OK then. Spit it out, what's the problem?'

Sherlock was silent for so long that John started to think maybe he'd forgotten he was there or hadn't heard him or something.

Finally and in a quiet voice he answered. 'I have feelings for Molly.'

This time it was John's turn to fall silent as he tried to come to terms with what his friend had said, it was so not what he had expected him to say.

'Did you hear me John? I said I have feelings for Molly and I need you to help me make them go away.'

John snorted a little. 'Sorry mate, I don't think it works like that. So how long...'

'Does it matter how long? Weeks, months, days, hours....I....I just don't know what to do John.'

He slumped a little further into his chair staring into the fire.

'Have you considered pursuing them? I mean, have you spoken to her or anything?'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 'Why would I want to do that?'

John sat forward again, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. 'Listen, Sherlock, I don't know what you thought I was going to be able to do here but firstly I think you having feelings for Molly is a good thing, baffling coz it's you, but good. Second, now they are here they aren't going to go away and if you try to avoid her I suspect they will just get worse; after all absence makes the heart grow fonder or so they say. So what I recommend is you have a shower.....because you stink, then you get dressed and go and see her. Or better still invite her round here for some food...though you might want to tidy up a bit first.'

He put his hand up, 'and no, I will not tidy up for you I have enough to be doing at home without being your skivvy here.'

He put his hands on his knees and stood up, 'take my advice Sherlock. Just run with it, Molly's a good person and for some god forsaken reason she actually loves you and accepts you for who you are. Don't waste it.'

He walked out leaving Sherlock mulling over his words. Could it really be as simple as that...just giving in, letting feelings and emotions overrun his life. It's not as though denying them has done much good came the response. Eventually he got to his feet and made his way to the shower but not before sending a quick text to Molly.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly had been starting to wonder where Sherlock was. He hadn't been into Barts for almost a week and she missed him, she always missed him when he was absent. Not to mention worried about him. She found herself watching the news more, looking up quicker whenever someone came into the lab or the morgue. She was always concerned that she would one day get the visit or the news that he had been killed.

It was a relief therefore to get his text.

**Come to Baker St tonight 7.00 SH**

Followed shortly by one which was a little more surprising for him.

**If you are free of course. SH**

It wasn't like him to be polite. She figured he probably needed help with one of his experiments and as she hadn't seen him for a while and had nothing planned she was more than happy to go and help.

**As I'm coming over straight from work shall I pick up a take away? Chinese? Mx**

It was another hour before the reply pinged back. This one she had to admit had her frowning at the screen in sheer bewilderment.

**No need. I'll cook. SH**

'He'll cook!' She spoke out loud in shock causing her interns to ask her to repeat herself.

She looked up at them, having forgotten their presence temporarily. 'No, no it's OK. Carry on. I was just talking to myself.'

She pondered on the text again as she took her shower after work. She'd normally wait until she got home but she hated going on somewhere else still smelling like the morgue, though if anyone would disregard the smell it would be Sherlock. Still, she liked to smell fresh when outside of work.

It was just after seven therefore by the time she walked up to his door and she could see the welcoming glow of his lights seeping round the edges of the curtains to his flat. She was looking forward to getting into the warmth after the walk from the tube station. It had to be below freezing and her lips felt blue with cold.

'Ah Molly you're here. Come in.'

She stepped past him into the warmth, acknowledging to herself how sexy he looked in his dress pants and cranberry coloured shirt topped off with a camel dressing gown. Not many men could get away with a house coat, especially nowadays, but somehow his innate air of authority made it seem normal.

She hurried up the stairs ahead of him and was pleased to see the fire blazing away in the hearth bathing the room in both heat and light. The only other light were candles on the kitchen table and a small lamp in the main room. Hang on candles!!

She looked round at Sherlock pausing mid-way through taking her coat off. 'Oh, sorry are you expecting someone?' Maybe he had just wanted to ask her something or get her opinion before they arrived.

He frowned. 'Yes Molly...you.' He removed her jacket from her arms and hung it up as she stood motionless behind him. She felt as though she were missing something. This all looked very un-Sherlock.

Meanwhile he turned back and held his hand out for her bag. Absently she gave it to him watching as he placed it next to her coat, 'umm Sherlock...is everything OK?'

'God, why is everyone asking me that today?'

'Why who else asked it?'

'John he was here earlier. I....I needed some advice.'

'Oh right, what about? Anything I can help with?'

Sherlock suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed. He'd been so intent on following John's instructions to 'run with his feelings' that he hadn't really thought beyond the point of getting Molly here and feeding her....after all that seemed to be what people did on dates...eat.

'I....I....drink Molly?' He walked past her into the kitchen picking up the bottle of wine he'd just bought.

'Yes please. This all looks very....umm...' She wanted to say date-like but she knew how he'd probably react to that so she altered at the last minute, 'nice. What's it for?'

He passed her her glass of wine. 'I would have thought that were self-evident Molly.' He took a draught of wine needing some Dutch courage.

Molly scrambled for a reason, if he were anyone else it would obviously be a date night but he wasn't anyone else and she was baffled.

She smiled in a confused way. 'Sorry, I'm not getting it.'

He stepped forward into her personal space and watched carefully as her eyes dilated and her breathing hitched a little. He felt his body responding to her just as it had been in his dreams. So there it was, confirmation, as if it had been needed that she really was affecting him both physically and emotionally.

He wanted to touch her, to kiss her. He was desperate to know if it would be as good as he hoped it would. He found himself acting on instinct as he took her glass and put it with his own on the table behind him. 'You, Molly, this is all about you.'

Slowly he brought his hand up and lightly moved a strand of hair from her face then he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers. He had seen the look of surprise on her face as he'd closed the gap between them but he had no choice he had to kiss her; he had to know how it felt.

It took a few seconds before either of them reacted but Sherlock was the first to move. He stepped in closer and brought his hands to her face as he deepened the kiss feeling her mouth open for him and her hands clutch at his dressing gown.

It was so much better than his dreams and his mind palace had thought it would be. He could feel his heart rate spiking, the blood pumping in his ears. He was conscious of every point of contact between them and he just wanted more. He wanted to be part of her, to feel her skin beneath his hands and the taste of her on his lips forever.

He groaned, actually groaned out loud when her hands moved to slide around his waist pulling him closer to her.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock didn't want the kiss to end; in fact his body was telling him he wanted so much more than that but Molly pulled back from him, letting him go.

He watched as she put her hand to her lips and her eyes met his. All he could see was confusion. 

'What the hell was that?'

He smirked. 'I would have thought that that at least was obvious Molly.' He waited a beat but when she didn't reply he went on, 'it was a kiss and this...' He wafted his hand towards the table which was all laid out for two, 'is a date...though it pains me to call it that.'

'Why what would you prefer to call it?' 

'I don't know, dinner. A night with my amator.'

She frowned once more. 'I do know what that means you know....lover.'

One side of his mouth quirked up. 'Yes, I suspected you might know that.'

'But...but we aren't lovers.'

He stepped closer again. 'We could be. I'd very much like us to be. And dinner's another half an hour off.'

She slapped his chest and laughed at that one, but then reached around him to get her wine. She walked back into the front room and sat down on the settee. She needed some space to think, some distance from him.

'Where's this all come from Sherlock? When I saw you last week, you were just...well...you. Why the change of heart?'

He sat next to her and refilled their glasses with the bottle he'd brought along with him. 'Let's just say something made me see you...I mean, really see you and I found I didn't just like what I saw. I wanted more.'

He continued. 'We both know you still have feelings me, so...'

Molly was feeling overwhelmed, bewildered, shocked. She'd come here with no expectations at all and here was Sherlock telling her that not only did he have feelings for her but he wanted to pursue them, what else was she ever going to say.

In fact, she didn't even need words she just pulled him towards her for another blistering kiss. As she pulled him forward she ended up lying back on the side of the settee with Sherlock's weight pressed on top of her. He had one hand on her hip and the other behind her head tangled in her hair. 

This time she was able to fully enjoy being kissed by him and he was so damned good at it. The feel of his lips on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth had her aching with desire. She had had so many fantasies about this moment. She could feel him hard against her hip and realising that he was physically reacting to kissing her made her all the more aware of her own body's needs. 

It had been months since she had had sex. In fact now she gave it some thought it had been with Tom before John and Mary's wedding. She missed it, she missed the feel of skin sliding over hers, the weight of a man on top of her, his erection sliding into her and she wanted it, not just sex but sex with Sherlock, she needed it...she had waited far too long. In that moment she hoped it would be the start of something between them, but if it were to just be a one-night stand she would take it. She wanted to know what sex with him would be like.

Just as she made the decision an alarm went off in the kitchen and Sherlock moved away from her sitting back up and straightening his clothes as he tried to catch his breath. He caught her eye and they both smiled almost shyly at each other before he held his hand out to pull her back up into a seating position.

'Perfect timing,' he said sarcastically.

She followed him through into the kitchen and sat at the table waiting for him to serve the food. It smelt delicious but Molly wasn't sure she could manage to eat a thing, she was almost squirming in her seat with lust pooled hot and low inside her. She tried to relax as she watched him move around dishing up the chicken and the vegetables but her heart felt as though it were in her throat. 

He turned back to her and placed her plate in front of her looking almost proud. As she picked up her cutlery she asked him if he cooked much. 'It just seems like a very un-you thing to do.'

He smiled as he ate some of the chicken, 'it is. I used to cook a bit at Uni, didn't have the money to eat out all the time and what little I did have I spent on drugs.' He saw her wince and immediately regretted reminding her of his fallibility. 'And I had to cook when I was away from London after my fake suicide but that was often over a campfire so a little more basic than this. Do you like it?'

Molly nodded. 'Mmm actually it's very tasty.'

He pushed his food around his plate not eating very much.

Molly frowned. 'Don't you?'

'It's fine...I just find it's not food I'm hungry for.' He looked her right in the eye and just like that Molly's appetite disappeared completely. She let her knife and fork fall onto the plate as she bit her lip.

'Do you consent Molly?'

'I'm sorry consent to what?'

'To sex Molly. I need to know, I need to be clear. I don't want to start something without your consent.'

She found her mouth completely dry, she couldn't find the words so in the end she just nodded. He smiled and then stood in one fluid movement before holding his hand out to her. She took it noticing, not for the first time, how large his hands were; it seemed to engulf her own.

He led her through to his bedroom, the only room in his flat she hadn't yet seen but before she could look around much he pushed her up against the door, 'you have no idea Molly, of the things I've imagined doing to you.' He held both her hands in his and slowly brought each one to his lips so he could kiss the backs of them. Then he transferred them both to his left hand and raised them up above her head, holding them there. Slowly he let his hand trail down her arm and over her chest. 

Molly had never felt so aroused, she had never been with a man that dominated her so completely; physically, emotionally, intellectually but she trusted him implicitly. She knew he wouldn't do anything to her that she wouldn't enjoy, knew that he would stop if she asked him to...but right now she didn't want him to stop, she needed him to continue.

He let his eyes follow his hand down as he started to unhook her buttons. Molly's breath was coming in short, sharp gulps and she felt dizzy with need. He pulled her shirt out of her trousers and smoothed his hand over the skin of her stomach moving up until his hand lay on her breast covering it completely. Molly felt herself arch up into his touch, moaning lightly. Sherlock chuckled, 'patience Molly, patience.'

He left his hand in place but bent to capture her lips, pressing his body against hers as he did. His kiss was electric and quickly became passionate with both of them getting more and more desperate. Sherlock was trying to control himself but it had been so long and he wanted her so much that his patience soon snapped.

He let go of her hands dragging her shirt off her at the same time. He then made quick work of her bra before turning them both round and pushing her down onto the bed. 'I'm going to fuck you until you scream my name. Do you understand?'

'Yes, God yes.' Came her breathy response before she gasped as he took her breast into his mouth and bit down on her nipple. He kept it just the right side of the pleasure/pain barrier but she still ended up threading her hands into his hair and pulling on it as a warning. The sensation went straight from his scalp to his cock and he rutted against her in return. 

Seconds later he pulled back sitting up. 'Take off your clothes.'

The command in his voice was unmistakable and had Molly scrambling to obey. He stood and watched as she pushed her trousers and pants down her legs removing her socks at the same time until she was naked before him. 

He walked slowly around the bedroom observing her but not once did she feel embarrassed under his gaze. The look he gave her was so full of lust that she just felt empowered, she felt that if she could cause this reaction in this man she could do anything. So she lay back displaying herself, one hand moving to cover the nipple he had just released from his mouth.

She saw the way his breath faltered and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. She saw him, she always did and she saw what she had never seen before; his desire for her.

He shrugged off his dressing gown throwing it onto a nearby chair. As he started to undo the cuffs of his shirt he continued to watch her. 'Touch yourself Molly, show me how you want me to touch you.'

Molly was no shrinking violet in the bedroom but his request still made her blush. He saw the colour bloom across her chest and face but she still did as he asked letting her hand move down from her breast to her centre. 

Her eyes never left his as her fingers slid over her clit and then lower before starting to move inside her. Sherlock meanwhile was having trouble concentrating on undoing his buttons, he was almost tempted to just tear the shirt of his body. 

Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered, almost closing and he could hear her small sighs. Once his shirt was removed he made quick work of his trousers and shoes and he stood before her naked, his body lit up by the light coming in from the window. He swore he had never felt so hard, it was almost painful as he wrapped his hand around himself and he stroked himself in time with her hand.

He saw her eyes drift down his body until she was watching his hand and he couldn't take any more. He climbed onto the bed and crawled up between her legs pushing them further apart. She removed her hand and rocked her hips desperate for him to continue the work she had started but instead of using his hand he placed his mouth on her.

Her reaction was immediate. She gripped his sheets and let out a long, low, gutteral moan. She was so close and he knew that it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge. He alternated between using the flat of his tongue and the tip of his tongue; circling her clit before sliding inside her, tasting her. She was a delicious mixture of sweet and sour and he wanted more.

When she came she called his name and he felt his cock twitch repeatedly, he was so ready for her. He moved up her body and she reached for him, pulling him into another kiss and he knew she would taste herself in his mouth but she didn't seem to care. Instead he felt her legs hook over his hips and her small hand gripping his erection. He couldn't help but push his hips forward, jerking himself off using her hand before she positioned him against her and he pushed into her tight, hot warmth.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH 

Molly just felt like a jumbled mess of hormones. When Sherlock had gone down on her it had immediately triggered her orgasm and she had come crying out his name; feeling his tongue and face against her clit and deep inside her. She hadn't had a chance to feel embarrassed or surprised though because she wanted more. She needed him inside her, fucking her. She knew she would come again, she could feel it, he was so damn perfect for her in every way.

They kissed as he entered her and she felt him stretching and filling her and it felt amazing. As they broke off the kiss his mouth moved to her neck and she could hear his voice telling her how wet she was, how perfect, asking her to come for him and how good it felt fucking her and it was all too much. Her climax started and seemed to go on endlessly. She vaguely knew she was calling his name and that her nails were digging into his skin as she urged him to continue. She heard him start to repeat her name over and over as his own climax started and hearing his voice in that moment was better than she could ever have imagined.

As he fell against her the only sound was them trying to catch their breath, both of them covered in a thin sheen of sweat. They stayed like that for quite some time neither wanting to be the one to break the connection, but eventually they had too with Sherlock shifting to one side but still holding her close.

He bent his head to kiss her again and even though it was a much slower and sweeter kiss it still had Molly wrapping her arm around him and wanting more. She would never get enough of him, ever.

Slowly but surely, as the kiss deepened Sherlock pulled Molly onto him, as he lay back, until she was lying across his body. She knew absolutely that they were already building up to a second round of sex and she wanted it, wanted him, always...always.

Her legs moved to either side of his hips so that she was straddling him and she could already feel his cock starting to get hard again. She gently rubbed her clit against it's length using it to stimulate her already sensitive nerve endings. They were both moaning as they continued the kiss. It just felt like a natural continuum of their previous coupling.

Sherlock's hands moved across her body, first holding her hips and pressing her down onto his cock and then moving to her breasts where he teased and kneaded her flesh. As he moved his mouth down to capture one of her nipples Molly sat up just enough to allow herself to slowly slide down onto his length, impaling herself beautifully onto his hard, muscular body. 

The sex this time was slower, less desperate but just as satisfying. It was a position that Molly had always preferred as it allowed her to set the pace and she enjoyed the sensation of his mouth on her breasts as she rode his cock. 

Her third orgasm built up gradually and when it broke she felt herself reaching new levels of ecstasy she knew he was close himself as he drove up and into her, almost lifting her from the bed. She urged him on enjoying hearing him and seeing his face as his eyes closed and his mouth opened. The image of Sherlock as he came was one she hoped she would get to see a thousand times and one she never wanted to forget.

This time when they finished Molly excused herself to go and clean up in the bathroom. As she splashed some water over her face she looked in the mirror in the cabinet over the sink and couldn't help but grin in delight. She was even surprised to see a love bite on her neck which she couldn't even remember him doing. It was going to be a nightmare to cover up for work but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had had sex with Sherlock and she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

That thought brought her down to earth a little and she wondered whether he was having any regrets, would he even want other people to know. She frowned, it wasn't in her nature to be some guy's dirty little secret and not even Sherlock would change that.

She felt a little self-conscious as she made her way back into the bedroom but she was surprised to find Sherlock sat up in bed, with the covers pooled around his waist, texting on his phone.

He'd been busy whilst she'd been away and had brought through the wine and their glasses along with a large bowl full of profiteroles covered in chocolate sauce and cream.

He smiled as she came in. 'I thought we could have dessert in bed. I don't know about you but I don't feel inclined to leave it.'

'Who are you texting?' She asked as she climbed under the covers on the other side from him. She picked up her wine and took a welcome draught feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat.

'Lestrade and John. He texted us both about a case.'

'Oh,' her face fell a little. 'Do you need to go?'

'No, they can cope on their own for once. I told them I'd just got you into my bed and had no intention of leaving you now or for anything less than a nine in the next 24 hours.'

He suddenly paused and looked at her, his eyes narrowing in thought. 'I...was that OK? I assumed you wouldn't mind people knowing but maybe I should have checked.

She smiled happily and picked up a profiterole biting into it and licking up the cream that threatened to spill out of the centre. 'No, that's fine, absolutely fine.'

He threw the phone onto his bedside cabinet and she saw him watch her eating and couldn't help but notice the way his eyes dilated as he gazed at her. 

'Oh Molly, brainy may be the new sexy but you covered in cream and chocolate may be the ultimate sexy.' Then he picked up the bowl and advanced upon a now giggling and defensive pathologist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's a wrap, there you have it. Please let me know if you enjoyed it. Until we meet again over some other fic...take care xx

**Author's Note:**

> I feel I should put in an acknowledgment that the paper I said Molly had written was actually written by the university of Sam Houston. I hope they don't mind me stealing the title for my fic but I wanted something that sounded authentic...thank you google.


End file.
